


exhausted

by xomoonlitsoul



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluffy, angsty beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 12:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xomoonlitsoul/pseuds/xomoonlitsoul
Summary: Needy!Timmy takes care of an exhausted Rikki.





	exhausted

**Author's Note:**

> lmk if yall want more i usually pick girls from my imagination and write from there but if you guys request i can fufill your desire <3

Needy!Timmy taking care of exhausted Rikki

Rikki  
I spent the whole day doing a hundred things. It's like I woke up today only to get tortured for a few hours. I hate days when I'm so tired I can't even enjoy being home. Like my home is another place I gotta stress.  
I only feel like this because even here I got 10,000 projects that need completing. I still got songs that need writing, music videos that need editing and I gotta submit a portfolio of photos for Love Magazine that I took of Zendaya.

I'm fucking tired and all I want to do it sleep.

I walk in through the doors and I immediately get to it. I showered, pulled on some pajamas, and pulled up my “✨concentration✨” playlist. I smiled in my head seeing the title because I pictured how Timmy says that. He would say, “Concentration,” in a silly French accent. 

And like a siren call, my phone buzzes.

From: soulmate✨

imykthxbye

I audibly sigh and leave it on delivered. I gotta focus. Turning on my laptop, I start skimming through Zendaya’s pictures.

From: soulmate✨

that's cold  
ik u c this  
Ur never off ur phone  
Babyyy  
My heart is hurting  
Love me

I gave up and texted back

To: soulmate✨

I'm swampeddddd  
I'm tryna like live but the world playing w meeee

I throw the phone on my bed out of frustration. I even shut it off. I'm tired.  
For the rest of the night I focused on my shit, I picked out my favorite pictures, edited the shit out of my video, and even finished this song called, This Love. I might give it away though. I made one of those uncharacteristics songs that don't really fit at my particular sound right now.  
I instantly felt my head release some tension when all my shit got done. I even turned on my phone. And waited the impending million messages.  
Well, only 2.

From: soulmate✨

:( wym???  
U shut off ur phone didn't u -_-

Sighing, I typed back, tentatively

To: soulmate✨

Wya  
I'm freeeeeeeee, I got my shit done  
Im home btw

Now it was my turn to wait for him to answer back. Decided to not stress this, I pull out my rolled up joint from my nightstand. Smoking, I skim Netflix looking for a flick.

From: soulmate✨

I'm at Will’s  
Ima go in a few, leave the door open

Setting down my phone, knowing he knows I read it, I continued skimming. Skimming until I felt him near my area, I chose a movie, Ghost World.  
I got up in a swift second and unlocked the door quickly before sliding into the kitchen to get chips and soda. I heard his headphones before he walked in. I kept my looking to a mere glance. “Hey, beautiful.” He came up to me and kissed my forehead and my heart sinks. Why do I always feel so on my guard whenever I'm anxious around him?

“Hey.” I did some squinty-smiley thing and sip my soda. I walk towards my room and stop at the door, “I'm watching a movie.” And gesture for him to come in my room. Real casual, Rick.

I feel him slowly and comfortably take off his jacket and peel off his other clothes. Like a piece of my room. I was always so disarmed and almost anxious having him in my room. For a long time, my room was my only haven. And it was obvious.  
My room had the Dominican and Cuban flags, graffiti, pictures of various obscenities, broken lights, and other spilled inks and fragments that ultimately make me up. And for some reason I always feel like he's a decoration here.  
Like he's that random ballerina jewelry box in a moms bedroom. 

He obviously didn't feel like this though. He always looks at my room in a sort of wondrous amazement that makes me feel so guilty. Because I know all he wants is to be apart of this world that I largely let him glimpse into.  
Shift towards my projector, highering the brightness, turning off my room light and turning my fairy ones on. I try and coach myself through this weirdness. Maybe I just wanna be alone? I audibly sigh.  
We lay on my bed and shift to our positions. Me on the right, on he chest. Him straight up, staring at the movie. He always watches the movies I pick and never complains. 

“What’d you do today?” He softly asks, almost to not disturb the movie.  
“Work. Grow grey hairs from stress.” I try and chuckle.  
“Anything special happen?” I love the natural curiosity in his voice from caring so much about others. It's like instinct rather than forced and it makes my heart ache. I cuddle on his chest, whining.  
He pulls me up by the armpits closest to him, like a baby. I hide my face as best I can into his neck.

“Talk to me, I miss your voice.” He whispered, followed by kisses on every free space of skin he had access to. And I knew he was feeling needy because his hands didn't waste time in pressing me as close to him as possible. Like he was trying to smash us into one body.  
I turn my head up and start peppering tiny, kisses up his neck, drenched in childlike need for affection. “You smell so much like me.” I almost moan out. This was true. I was inhaling his skin and I could only smell me.  
When he walked in, his clothes smelled like cigs and beer, and I was used to this smell. I've smelled it my whole life, but the second he peels off the sweater and jeans, his skin smells like me.  
Like my soap, my shampoo, and my sweat. It made my anxiety melt. I was laying on him, between his legs, melted into his chest, with my arms wrapped around his neck. He was my person, he even smelled like me. He slept in my bed and made love to me. He was my person. And this was what I missed. The opposite of the emptiness I sometimes feel is this remembrance right here. Remembering he loves me more than so many things. 

“No one else I'd rather smell like.” He breathes out, kissing my arm that he began leaning on.

“Why do you love me so much?” I sigh, almost relaxed to have declared this. 

He didn't even skip a beat in saying, “Because you handle stress and being sad so sweetly. Because I can't find a flaw in any of what you claim to be your imperfections. I can't help not loving you. My heart can't last without you.” I blink away a few teardrops and look at him.  
“How can he just say shit like that so openly? God, I’m gonna love you forever.” He moves his hands to my ass, pushing my legs apart, lifting me higher onto him. I arch my back, tightening my legs around his waist, then laying on my arms on his chest.  
We stay like this breathing, listening to the movie in the back. I feel him close his eyes and breathe steadily.  
Then I feel his slim, nimble fingers slide up my back and under tank top. He stops at the dip between my shoulderblades, massaging a particularly sensitive area. I squirm and shiver, but he keeps digging his his fingers deeper and it starts to feel good, in a painful way.

“Timmy, what’re you doing?” I groan strangled.

“Massaging your sore spot. Your back is so tense, you want me to give you a massage?” He asks and to anyone else he sounds so sincere and genuine, not that he isn't, but I know him. Massage always leads to sex. 

I smirk, inching closer at him, “An innocent massage?” 

He bites his lip, closing the distance between our faces but not yet touching my lips. We play this game where we wait to see who’ll give in. It's always him, but today he was putting a fight.  
So I place delicate, specific kisses on his face and he immediately begins to purr like a kitten, unable to contain his moans from my kisses and now sucking on his neck. 

“I was born to win, Rikki.”

“I was born to die, Timmy.”

With ease and swiftness, he bounced his lips off mine and I lick his lips, with the exact same ease as he did in the movie.  
I feel him smile against my face and just like that, he caves. His sweet lips blend in with my medium sized ones and I feel my skin warm up in a familiar level. And my mind immediately shifts with my eyes closed. I picture him with me forever. I see sweet tiny babies with a lot of hair and my mom trying to teach him to salsa. I moan, sliding my tongue in his mouth.  
“Don't start what you can't finish, babe.” Don't worry about that. I answered that all night in different languages and pulsation


End file.
